


Crawfish for Your Love

by afrakaday



Series: Beignet!verse [3]
Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, New Orleans, crawfish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrakaday/pseuds/afrakaday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suck the head, squeeze the tip.  - The Radiators</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crawfish for Your Love

Between visits to jazz halls and art galleries, Bill and Laura had managed to sample the best culinary traditions New Orleans had to offer: muffalettas, oyster po-boys, boudin, beignets. And most importantly, crawfish.

It was the end of the crawfish season, and the overgrown mudbugs that had managed to make it this far possessed hard shells that were difficult to crack even after hours of boiling in sidewalk vats stirred with oarlike paddles.

Bill’s fingertips bore the brunt of the difficulties he’d encountered with the pesky critters. “Next year, we’ll come down right after Mardi Gras,” he grumbled before snapping the tail from the body and discarding the latter without bothering to suck. “Eat the little crawfish that just buckle between your fingers.”

Laura slurped delicately at a crawfish head. “Really, Bill. These are fine.” She tossed the head into the half-full bucket and efficiently snapped the cartilage along the tail. “I actually kind of like these huge tails. More meat for less work.” She waved the succulent tail meat at him demonstratively, teasing it near his lips before snatching it back and popping it in her own mouth.

“Hey!” he protested. “Little help? Your fingers are having a much easier time of it.” He tried another crawfish off his cardboard tray, but the tail’s edge pricked him again. “I give up,” he said, disgusted with himself, calling a truce with the crustaceans. He picked up a boiled potato and examined it listlessly.

She grinned. “Crawfish for your love?” she asked, unwrapping another tail and placing it in his mouth.

Bill savored the bite slowly before opening his eyes and looking at her. He would have kissed her, but their mouths were both covered in painfully spicy crawfish boil. He settled for sucking her finger.

“You already are,” he said.


End file.
